4.1 Blank...

Time:????

Location:????

Rolling over in bed I noticed a few things. My ribs don't hurt. I'm sure Black Adam broke two and cracked others, but nothing. Not an ache to be found. My eyes shot open as I realised I don't remember getting to a hotel… just escaping and then… nothing.

The small cottage I'm in is not remotely normal. It looks like something from the sixteen hundreds or earlier. The floor is straw. I'm not quite sure what happened but a lot of the past few days feels like a fever dream. Confusing and strange. Like I wasn't in my right mind.

I move to get out of bed, finding myself in clothes not my own. Oh, this is getting creepy. I reach out for the nearest metal… and nothing happens. I can feel it, but somewhere there is a disconnect. I can't move it. Someone or something is messing with my powers.

At this point the average powered hero would probably be all whiny. I don't have time for that, bursting into motion I run toward the kitchen area and look for the nearest, sharpest knife. Armed with a dagger-like implement, I take the time to get a better look at this place.

I'm fairly certain this is a trap of some description.

Magical, mental or dimensional I have no clue.

So I rule out the easiest. By stabbing my left hand with the knife.

Pain and blood flow forth; I hope proof enough that I'm not locked in my own subconscious. In between wincing I hear a voice.

"Prithee noble sir, thou art awake and… art bleeding?! Quickly give me thine hand and I shall give thee aid!" A young blonde man, panicking at the sight of my stab wound demanded. It isn't even that bad. I mean… okay I can kinda see bone. Better to fix it myself than rely on the stranger.

"If you wish to help me, start a fire and boil up some water." I grunted at the boy. he's wearing some really old fashioned clothes, and I mean pantaloons and hose. He does as I ask, mildly surprising me with his efficiency. Using a flint and steel to light a fire isn't a very easy task.

"Noble youth, why didst thee maim thyself?" He asked, concerned.

"To test whether this was a dream or not. I do not recall how I came to be in this place, nor do I understand why some things are different from my knowledge. But such a virtuous young man must know much about this location and how I came to be in your care." I answered smoothly. It'll probably be lies, to facilitate the illusion I am under. But even false information is better than none.

I ask for a needle and thread, which turns out to be twine and a thin piece of polished bone.

Kudos on realism, illusionist.

I boil the needle, twine and then a short length of cloth, before sewing the hole closed and binding my palm in the cloth. As sterile as I can make it. I don't think my host has rubbing alcohol, or any other kind really. Having either drank it or abstaining. Strong, distilled spirits are likely to be expensive anyway.

"So, my host… how do you know the details of my birth?" I asked, curious about the noble comment.

"Why fine sir, your clothes were all the proof mine eyes needed. Such fabric, finer than any I did see." He explained.

"Where are my belongings?" I asked.

He looked at me strangely. "Thine baggage was beneath thy bed, did thee not sight it in thine distress and confusion? I am no highwayman."

Oh. Okay then. I guess that's good.

"How did I come to be here?" I asked. "I don't remember much."

"I found thee on the roadside, a mile hence. T'was during a most curious storm. The thunder echoed like the anger of heathen god!" He offered.

My jaw dropped. NO. It can't be.

This is a punishment from Zeus?!

Dammit.

Don't tell me I'm going to have to go crawling to him at Themyscira? Where even is that place? The Greek Archipelago or the Bermuda Triangle? How long to get to the nearest?

"I have been travelling for many days, would you kindly tell me the place I reside? I am afraid this too has slipped my memory." I asked.

"Vlatava." He responded. And my jaw dropped again.

Fuck. I've time travelled. Now he's just rubbing it in.

Fucking Zeus. Fight like a real man.

Shake it off.

I stand and thank my host for his kindness. "It is nothing good sir, simply think well of me."

And I crashed in the home of a living saint, apparently.

"What do you call yourself?" I asked.

"Argento. Sir, simply Argento." I found my bag and slipped into my roughest set of clothes and gear. From one of the pockets I retrieved an object which I threw, a trinket I salvaged from a wreck. It was only silver and onyx, but still whole. I had intended to use it as a gift for Louise to enchant but May came into the picture and then things became complicated.

"For your hospitality." I nodded, leaving.

Ooof. I never realised how heavy my bags were with the iron pokers I had laid inside for my power to grip. I discard one and keep the other handy, if this is the middle ages then I'll need something to defend myself.

The road is long and while I know the general direction and location, I'm on foot.

An hour later I'm panting and my feet are sore. Damn, I let myself go. Too much floating. Not enough physical exercise. I haven't since I was imprisoned.

Back to the grind.

Some twenty minutes later however…

"Oh what is this, a young lordling out without a guard or porter? Look at how he's limping and those fancy clothes." A voice said from the roadside, emerging from the underbrush was a pair of rather large, tough looking fellows. Bandits. Brilliant.

I threw the baggage at my feet and pulled out the poker. Ready to fight.

They didn't fight fair, as to be expected of thieves really. One threw dirt in my eyes, before punching me in the jaw hard enough I taste blood. Then further indignity, they stripped me naked and took the clothes I was wearing as well as my bag.

Around midnight I stumbled into a tiny hamlet, freezing.

I collapsed there, thankful when rough hands pushed me beside a fire and threw a blanket over my nakedness.